Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

(impedance[4.08]);

"Are you gonna beat me up?" I asked her. "I thought this was just a tour."

"It is. Just think for a—stay over there, Barnes!"

I turned to see Bucky coming toward us. "I wanna try something," he called back. "For your tour. I'm helping."

"Don't be gross," Nat warned.

"I don't mean that," he said. I was already an anxious mess at the implication, so it didn't help matters when he reached us, turned to me, and added, "Can I touch you, sweetheart?"

I nodded, face hot. I couldn't look at him anymore—I studied the floor instead. Nat mock vomited as she crossed the room again, back over to Steve.

"Okay, take my hand," Bucky said. I did. "I'm gonna turn you around and pick you up. I don't want to scare you."

I nodded again, apparently unable to speak now. I was about to chance a look up at him to see if he was surprised by my sudden shyness. But before I could, he spun me around, bent down, and pulled me into his chest. His arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground. I gasped, somehow losing the ability to breathe, too.

"Did I fluster you?" His voice was low, amused, right next to my ear. He didn't sound surprised at all, actually. Just pleased.

I nodded.

"Sorry, doll," he said, not sounding sorry.

"Is this supposed to be jogging my memory?" I asked, kicking my feet out a little, just to see what felt familiar.

"If Romanoff asks, tell her I pinned your arms down and told you to get out of it. I did that once."

I frowned at my free hands, which were clutching at his forearms. "But that's not the memory you're—" I realized mid-sentence what he was really trying to get me to remember. I still didn't remember it, but I knew. "Oh god."

"What?" he asked. He turned his head and laughed into my shoulder, right above my collar bone. I fully shuddered when his stubble prickled my bare skin. "Did you remember something?"

"No," I said, so overwhelmed that I almost wanted to tell him to put me down. I didn't, though. "Nat told me."

"Told you what, doll, what'd she tell you?"

"You know what she told me!"

He laughed again and pressed a kiss onto my shoulder, and I swallowed thickly to keep from whimpering aloud.

"Should I put you down?" he asked, voice in my ear again. "Since I decided I'm supposed to be courting you."

"Courting me? What about that text you sent earlier?"

"Which text?"

"You know..."

"I really don't, doll. I say a lot of shit to you."

"You said you wanted to..."

"Oh, bust in you later?" he said, like he was just remembering. Like that was the sort of thing he just said casually and forgot about. "Sorry. Was just excited about the Dodgers. There's context I could give you."

"So it wasn't serious?"

"I mean, it can be serious."

I couldn't handle it—I squirmed like I wanted down, and he lowered me to my feet. "Where are we going tonight?" I asked, turning around to talk to him.

"Dinner," he said. No other details. "Riding on the back of a motorcycle would scare the shit out of you, right? I've never asked. I just assumed."

"Um, yeah."

"Right, right. We can save that for another day."

"Or never?"

"Right." He said it fondly, unbothered, and cupped my face the way he had earlier in the day.

I felt like I needed to avert my gaze to the floor again as he beamed down at me. But he was tilting my face up, holding me still with big hands.

"What?" I asked finally.

"What?" he repeated.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"You're so you," he said. "I thought you were gone, and then I thought you were back, and then I thought you were gone again. But you're back now. You're you."

"Oh."

It was too much, almost. Being loved by someone I felt like I vaguely remembered from a dream I'd had.

As I tried again to avert my gaze from him, I caught sight of the door on the far side of the training room. It had been important to me at some point. I'd hurried toward it. Another memory—Dr. Cunningham, Sergeant Barnes will be arriving in approximately thirty seconds. FRIDAY's voice. I'd been avoiding him.

The rest came back in bits and pieces. He'd been awful to me in here. I remembered being worried about my orchid, afraid it would die in his apartment while I was avoiding him, staining whatever good associations had come with recalling my orchid earlier. Why was it that every time I remembered him, I just felt miserable?

I stepped out of his reach.

"Bucky..." I began suddenly. "How long did you push me away? I mean, how long were we actually together?"

He winced. "You remembered something else."

"How long?" It felt important. I needed to know how long I'd felt like this. I needed to know if every memory was going to come back just to make things worse.

"About two days," he said.

A wave of something like nausea rushed over me. A lot of disappointment. I felt alone again.

"Two days," I repeated.

"Grace, it wasn't—"

"I'm gonna head home, I think. I'm tired."

"Grace—" he started again, but seemed to think better of it. "Okay. I can take you if you want."

"I'm just gonna ask Nat." I nodded awkwardly toward her on the other side of the room.

"Okay. Sure, sweetheart. Do you still—" he paused and considered his words. "When will I see you again?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Can I just have tonight alone, please? I need to be by myself."

The way his face had fallen in the past minute made me want to cry. There were a lot of reasons I wanted to cry in that moment, though.

"Yeah," he said painedly. "Whatever you want."

A/N: omg y'all sooo sorry for the delay! I'm a grad student and the semester started this week, so I was reallyyy busy. Updates might be a little slower coming up. I'm teaching an undergrad composition class and tutoring for composition along with taking 3 seminar classes myself so I might be busy and/or wear out all my writing energy sometimes💀 but we are in the home stretch and this book should be done within the month! And I will have free time to write this weekend!!